Off-the-grid

Photo by Jeremy Bezanger on Unsplash

I have recently deactivated my Facebook and Instagram accounts. While I’m not quitting for good, I just had it—especially with Facebook. For a while, it became an obituary of sorts because of COVID-19. A friend changing his or her profile photo to black or a lighted candle — a sign that they lost a loved one — can trigger the worst of anxiety on any of us. 

Not only that, it had gotten so toxic and stressful for me now that we’re nearing the national elections and partisan fever is so high. I’ve been seeing friends associating themselves with political colors “throwing shade” at each other with some even challenging those not agreeing with them to “unfollow”. 

One of the perils of my youth is perhaps how I was very vocal about my views and opinions in the past. As I’ve mentioned before, I have gotten in trouble at times because of it. In the office, I was viewed by some as someone who’s subversive and it rubbed some people the wrong way. Gone are those days now, as I realized that volunteering one’s opinion isn’t the smartest idea when most people who are active in social media are under the illusion that what they believe in is the absolute truth. 

Don’t get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for people who stick to their beliefs and are ready to defend them to the ground—no matter how far it is from my own views. But what I don’t like these days is the lack of respect. I’m seriously tired of the woke mob. Sure, there is nothing wrong with being socially and politically aware but I am totally AGAINST anyone being canceled and silenced because some felt offended over something. I don’t like the cancel culture because it is a contradiction. Think how funny it is that the most intolerant people just happen to be the people preaching tolerance. 

Maybe it’s because I’m from a different generation and we were taught to grin and bear it; to chalk it up as we can’t always get what we want. But maybe our generation is also to be blamed for it because we are the ones who raised this generation they call “snowflakes”. In short, perhaps my generation did something wrong, IDK. *shrugs*

Another reason why I also took a break on Instagram is how it pressures us to post something “positive” even now when most of us are going through tough times. We don’t want to add up to the toxicity of social media if we chronicle, say, our own bouts with depression on our IG posts, do we? 

Now you might say, well I don’t have to post anything. True. But seeing the beautiful, often-curated posts of my friends can at times mess up with my self-esteem too. Like how when I see a former officemate who is now based overseas, seemingly having the time of her life (they are no longer wearing face masks and can be with friends in bars), just triggers some feeling of envy in me. And I’m not what you’d call an envious person. Other people’s posts sometimes amplify my feeling of loneliness and depression even if I know that not all the nice things I see online happen in real life. Not when most people put up a front. Even so, it is getting to be detrimental to my mental health. 

I know I can simply log off if it’s somewhat causing me distress, but I guess part of me wanted to be off-the-grid, to be not as accessible as before. If you want me, vieni a trovarmi.

I thought it would be hard being I’ve always been “out there” but surprisingly, it felt okay. Instead of being viewed, these days I’d rather be part of the audience. This is why most of my idle times are spent watching TikToks (not that I’m promoting it, as it can also have its ugly side, but at least I don’t follow any of my friends and I can simply scroll up if I don’t like it). I also have a backup Twitter account where only a few friends are privy to (because the Twitter mob is the worst) so if I temporarily deactivate my original account, I wouldn’t be thrown back to the dark ages.

The worst of times bring out the best of people

Photo by Yoann Boyer on Unsplash

It’s been a while since I posted anything on this blog. It’s not like nothing happened during my absence. The truth is, so many things happened and most of it became too depressing to talk about. I’ll try my best to touch some of it now, just so to explain why my post today is titled as such.

Two days after his birthday my younger brother, the father of my nephews, was rushed to the hospital due to difficulty in breathing. It started the day before when he felt weak and was having a bad cough. I even expressed concerns that it might be COVID, but he adamantly dismissed it. He said he didn’t have any other symptoms other than the cough and said it must be another asthma attack. The following morning it had gotten so bad we had to hook him to an oxygen tank and later on had to be brought to the hospital when that didn’t help.

I’ve already mentioned in the past my frustrations with the lifestyle my brother has chosen for himself. He smokes heavily, sleeps late, eats unhealthy food — I mean, think of every possible abuse one can do to his or her own body, with the exception of drugs and booze, my brother did it. Not to mention the other personality flaws and unpleasant things about him, which I will no longer talk about.